


Wrathful Claim

by bucketcase



Category: Transformers (Unicron Trilogy), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Cybertron
Genre: M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 14:25:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16599611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucketcase/pseuds/bucketcase
Summary: Familiarity was what had led them here—not destiny, not fate.





	Wrathful Claim

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this was written as a gift for someone over on Tumblr; however, it's been sitting in my drafts forever and I don't necessarily have the heart to delete it, so I'm posting it here. Premise: Unicron fucked over both G1 Galvatron and Unicron Trilogy Megatron. This is the result after many encounters between the two.

It felt like a welt upon his soul, this twisted sense of need. Familiarity was what had led them here—not destiny, not fate. Megatron knew who he was destined to; it wasn’t the mech before him, the mech whose touch he tolerated for now.

Battle worn hands passed roughly over his armor, cascading over the depths of him, and sank deep within the tight gaps to prod wiring, to tease transformation seams and otherwise vulnerable sensors. At times, it hurt deliciously, and Megatron embraced the pain. Somehow, these hands seemed familiar, as though they had navigated the expanse of his frame before, but the former warlord rejected such foolish notions. 

Static burst over his frame as the hands worked to siphon a charge from his systems; Megatron resisted, despite the protocols which ached to activate. He would need more convincing if he was to indulge this mech with interface.

And this mech; Megatron hummed. Oh, was he a delight. Rough, brutish, taller than he, his frame scarred but sturdy. He leaned close, inhaling his scent of death and Chaos. _Perfect_.

With a devilish flare in his optics, Megatron traced a digit downwards along the length of the other’s torso. “Galvatron,” he rumbled, regarding the name as it rolled off his tongue. He paused, hardly shy as he gripped the ancient’s paneling, testing it’s heat. 

At once, there was a flurry of movement, and the god slayer growled as he was pinned back to the wall, the battle worn hands squeezing his throat. Despite himself, Megatron grinned and mocked, “Too forward? If you don’t like my treatment, then you shouldn’t have come.”

Wickedness flashed in his vermilion optics as Galvatron leaned dangerously close and snarled, “ _Fool_. You do not have my trust.”

Teal gaze narrowed, but before Megatron could respond, he was tossed to the floor, Galvatron atop him at once. He grit his teeth as blunt digits sank around his paneling, searching for the trigger to open them. “Stay down,” the ancient vented against his audial, but never was he one to obey.

Seizing him by the wrist, Megatron forced the hand away from his armor and pushed, heaving Galvatron onto the floor instead. Ire filled the mechanisms behind his teal lenses as he used the weight of him to hold the larger mech to the floor. Lowly, he chuckled, trying to suppress the sudden crushing weight of his charge. So few had ever tried to claim him, and Megatron _loathed_ the flurry of excitement which seemed to erupt from his core at the idea of it. 

“Tell me, Galvatron,” he taunted, “is it me you seek to claim or is it Unicron? You’ve never been able to conquer him like I did, have you? So what, you take me, and all is well? I know how it is, and you can resent that all you want, you can hate me for knowing just what it means to have him inside you, trying to eat his way out of your head.”

Roaring, Galvatron rolled, slamming Megatron harshly into the floor. This time, his digits did not miss the trigger, and the ancient growled his satisfaction as the former warlord’s paneling folded back, revealing his array. This time, he inhaled, letting the scent of ozone sting his olfactory sensors. “Your greatest weakness is your mouth, Megatron,” he hissed, plunging two digits into the exposed valve.   


Already he was quite slick, hungry calipers clenching around his digits. With wicked amusement, he watched as Megatron tried to hide his enjoyment. Leaning close, he vented, “So greedy...”

Teal optics attempted to murder him with a glare. The gravel of his voice matched the rage in his eyes, “You should know better than—”

“ _Silence_ ,” the ancient rumbled, removing his digits from the once-tyrant’s valve and forcing them into his mouth. “Bite me, and I’ll break your jaw. I’d hate to do any damage to such a pretty face.”  


Galvatron chuckled as Megatron sputtered, struggling beneath him, tempting the sharpness of his teeth against his digits. “But you are right,” he confessed, sitting back a bit as he allowed his own paneling to fold away, unsheathing his spike. Lining their hips, he entered him quickly, releasing a ragged vent of satisfaction as he pressed himself to the hilt.

In his pleasure, as he felt the calipers squeeze around him, the warm lubricants only heightening his arousal, Galvatron almost didn’t notice the sudden shudder which trembled through Megatron’s frame, his optics dilated with surprise. With a grin, the old warlord leaned close, seeing fit to remove his digits from the god slayer’s mouth in favor of gripping his jaw. “You and I have both suffered because of Unicron. But my claim is for _you_ , Megatron. My want is for _you_. And all that I want, I not only take, I _conquer_.”

“You dare try to deceive me?  _Enough_. Take me, then. Make your claim. You are nothing but an inconvenience compared to what Unicron has done to me.”  


“It’s not easy for you, is it? To yield, though you enjoy how it feels to lose control, to be overpowered. Did Unicron teach you that?” Galvatron purred, slowly easing back only to thrust back inside. “You ask so nicely.”  


A beastly growl rumbled from Megatron’s throat, but it only incited the ancient further. Biting his tongue, he dug his digits into the Unicron-forged armor, seeking to cripple Galvatron in whatever capacity he could. He snarled as the old warlord countered by increasing his pace, seeking only to subdue him quickly. 

With every thrust, he silently cursed, fighting the groans which threatened to fall from his throat. Node for node he was met, calipers stretched painfully, _wondrously_ , as Galvatron showed him, _made him feel_ what it meant to be conquered. A stinging ache began to build in his core, warnings of an impending overload flashing across his HUD. Megatron ignored them, unwittingly spreading himself further so that Galvatron might be better accommodated to serve him.

It didn’t go unnoticed, and Megatron beheld the amusement in his optics.

With a grin, the ancient rewarded him, brushing his thumb along the node at the apex of his valve. Beautifully, the god slayer writhed, and Galvatron pressed the sharpness of his teeth into his neck. And though he longed to whisper into Megatron’s audial how _divine_  he felt, how his valve made his spike throb as the calipers pulled the length of him in, he withheld. How warm he was, how wet—Galvatron longed for a taste.

His pace did not falter as he reached down and collected the dripping lubricants onto his digits. He reached back up only to smear them upon Megatron’s mouth; for a moment, he regarded him: _his claim and his pretty face_. Slowly, he kissed him, rumbling his delight at the taste. Seeking penetration, he pressed his tongue past Megatron’s lips. The god slayer huffed into his intake, entertaining the intrusion only briefly.

Galvatron growled disappointed as Megatron turned his helm, his frame suddenly tense. The ancient hummed knowingly; as a licentious fire burned through him, he quickened his pace, determined to finish his claim. 

Almost immediately, Megatron snarled, groaning as he fell to his overload. Galvatron watched as his spinal strut arched, growling as a rush of lubricants spilled over his spike, calipers rippling against his length. He thrust deep as the sensation pulled him into his own overload, spike throbbing as he buried his essence within his claim.

Spent, he collapsed beside him, systems whining as they worked to cool themselves. 

After a while, Megatron spoke, “You best leave.”

Galvatron smiled, “Leave? Mmm. I’m not finished.”

“I am,” he countered, closing his panels before sitting up.  


The ancient watched. “You are mine, Megatron,” he vented, moving to sit beside the former tyrant and press his lips to his neck. Slowly, he circled an arm around his waist, tempting a digit along the glass of his cockpit, eliciting a flinch. He chuckled lightly. “Your berth, where is it?”

Megatron narrowed his optics, freeing himself of Galvatron’s embrace. “If you’re so determined, find it yourself.”

The response only caused him to grin wickedly. Grabbing Megatron by the arm, he yanked him to his pedes, dragging him forth. “My dear, you have such a _nasty_  way of saying yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
